Page 128 of Bitter Rival

Beckett perks up. “If I knew you’d give me backdoor access, I would have tried to buy you sooner.”

“I was thinking more along the line of extra hugs. Maybe some cuddling.”

“Can’t wait for all those cuddles,” he says sarcastically.

I point at the screen. “Get ready for an earful. I have a lot to say about this movie.”

“I’ll bet,” he comments dryly.

“You love it when I put my spin on things. In fact, I’ll bet you can’t think of a single thing you don’t love about me,” I tease.

He glances over. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, Daisy.” He faces forward and I stare at his profile.

What I heard was: You’re perfect just as you are.

His hand lands on my thigh and he gives it a little squeeze. “Watch the movie, princess.”

But I don’t. I’m too busy watching him.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Daisy

When we get home, Beckett takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.

In his bedroom, he undresses me, his calloused hands caressing my skin as he slides the clothes off my body until I’m standing naked before him in the blue moonlight.

He takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Gently. Reverently. Like I’m something precious to him.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice low and husky as he worships my body with his expert mouth, branding my skin with his lips.

Naked, he kisses his way up my body and settles between my thighs. My legs wrap around his waist and I grab the back of his head, pulling him down to me for a kiss as he enters me in one powerful thrust.

My back arches off the mattress and I rise up, meeting him thrust for thrust, our lips still fused in a kiss.

This doesn’t feel like fucking. It feels like something completely different.

Something more.

“God. You feel so good,” he says, pulling back to look at my face.

“Maybe you should keep me.” It was meant to sound lighthearted, more jokey, but it came out sounding the opposite.

“Maybe I should,” he says, thrusting harder and faster as I clench around him, chasing the high, those few moments of bliss when all the edges get fuzzy and the world ceases to exist.

It comes in waves, each one building until light shatters behind my lids and I cry out, my heels digging into his back and my nails biting into his shoulders and he spills inside me.

It’s so good and so beautiful that I’m on the verge of tears.

I don’t want this to end. Not next week. Not ever.

Afterward, I roll onto my side and place my hand over his heart and I wonder how anyone can say that sex is just sex.

With Beckett, it feels like so much more.

Everything feels like more. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before.

Like a part of me might die if I have to say goodbye.

---